Honestly, who would bet on a greyhound named Anchor Man? He was not fast enough for the dog track but fortunately he ended up with Greyhound Pets of America instead of being euthanized as the majority of non-winning greyhound athletes are, even today.
A few years after moving to the Farms, I volunteered with the GPA to work with any difficult or unadoptable greyhounds. Normally, greyhounds quickly adapt to normal life and rapidly become couch potatoes enjoying soap operas and sleeping on beds. Occasionally, a dog will have some trouble adjusting and need a little persuasion and understanding. That's where I came into the picture.
Skipper was a very tall, lanky, stunning black and white male greyhound. He had been adopted and the home didn't work out. Requirements for adopting greyhounds are simple. All you need is a large, fenced in yard for them to run, a lot of love and understanding, dog food, toys, bones, treats, a couch and a bed to sleep on and a little more love, just for good measure.
When I brought him home, Dan said he looked like Ben Johnson, the Olympic runner who was disqualified for using steroids. Skipper's hind thighs were huge. He was muscled and quick. Our two acre, fenced in yard was a quick 10 second zip around the fence posts.
The first thing we found out about Skipper was that he didn't know either of his two names! He had to learn who he was. This became problematic several times in the first few months when Skipper decided our front gate was a starting gate and took off after an imaginary stuffed rabbit. I had to chase him with the car because I couldn't keep up with him on foot. To resolve this issue, we attached a leash to the gate and whenever we opened it and Skipper was outside, he dutifully stood on the leash until the gate was closed. Eventually, Skipper learned his name. After that, he learned to come when called. Dog treats and cookies worked well. After that, Skipper was never late for dinner!
Another thing we learned was that Skipper didn't know how to play. Our four other dogs at the time were our alpha female Wolf Hybrid named Chari (short for Carcharodon carcharias or Great White Shark) and a Shepherd Collie mix named Lump, who was my sweetest dog of all time. Then there was Dump, Lump's look-a-like as a puppy, a female Shepherd Collie mix who grew up to look nothing like her mentor, Lump but inherited her personality. Speedo, a male Corgi-Sheltie mix rounded out the furry troupes. I found Speedo at a local feed store. He had a severe hookworm infection and was so scared when I picked him up to bring him home, he went perfectly stiff in my arms.
Lump and Dump were our original two dogs when we moved to the Farms. Chari came shortly after when I heard that a young man was desperately trying to find a home for his Wolf Hybrid because he'd had to move and leave her with friends. I'd always wanted a Wolf Hybrid so I talked Dan into meeting her. Dan walked down to our front gate when the young man brought Chari to meet us. By the time they had walked back to the house together, Dan was already talking about putting some weight on Chari. From that day, she belonged to Dan.
Later Speedo came to us and now Skipper had joined our pack. Chari and Lump were old enough that they simply tolerated the newest addition by acknowledging his presence. The younger pair, Dump and Speedo decided Skipper was cool, especially when he ran fast. They began their friendship by trailing behind him wherever he ran by many horse lengths. Daily training saw them get faster and faster. Speedo especially enjoyed the challenge of trying to keep up with Skipper so eventually we gave him the title of "Fasted Short-Legged Corgi Mix in the World."
Skipper settled in well. After learning his name, he had to learn how to play. The reason Skipper didn't know his name was because, in the racing greyhound business, it wasn't necessary. He was a commodity, a product that either ran fast and made his owner money or was eliminated. Greyhounds aren't really allowed to play at all. They are taught to run. Occasionally, they are trained to run with other dogs, but the dogs are usually muzzled and running is the only game they learn.
Watching Skipper learn how to play with Dump and Speedo was fun was great entertainment. He was the tallest dog of the pack and when he wasn't running he wasn't exactly graceful on his long, thin legs. The one thing Skipper did know was respect. He never hurt either of his new friends and he always relinquished the ball or bone to them. There wasn't an aggressive bone in his body.
After about a year, we realized that the huge, muscular thighs were gone and Skipper just looked like an ordinary fit young dog. He was five years old and his Ben Johnson look had obviously been caused by the steroids used in racing greyhounds at the time.
I took Skipper to obedience school. My friend Kathy enrolled her Irish Wolfhound, Bear and the two dogs became great friends. They graduated at the bottom of their class and accepted their awards with nobility. Both dogs learned how to sit, stay, heel and come. They weren't class superstars but they learned.
It wasn't comfortable for Skipper to sit. It seemed unnatural to him so when he learned to sit in class, it was a miraculous feat. Normally, my greyhound was stretched out like the Sphinx or in fast forward motion. Oh, and one other position—on his back, with all four legs stretched out, usually sound asleep. This was his favorite and he practiced it daily in Dan's favorite Lazy Boy recliner. It was a Kodak moment. Skipper's tail draped off one side of the recliner and his head reposed on the armrest. His body twisted and turned to fit in the seat and he was on his back. His eyes were closed and he was in heaven. I never had the heart to make him get off the furniture.
Skipper shared his life with us for four years. He was a canine Pinocchio, a wooden, emotionless animal who came to life and became a real dog. He had a huge heart and was loving and loyal to us and to his fellow dogs. When the end came for Skipper, it came with the diagnosis of bone cancer. He was in terrible pain for a few hours. When he began to cry, we called our vet who came and examined him. We all agreed he needed to be relieved of his pain and it was done quickly.
His Ben Johnson steroids had not helped him win money at the track and they were responsible for shortening his life. We all missed him terribly. One day, we were sitting on the porch and all of a sudden, Speedo leaped up and started to run. A dirt bike was coming down our road headed for the empty lot next door. The bike would drive down our fence line and when Skipper was alive, he had always been at the front post ready for them when they got there. Then, his greatest joy was leaving them in his dust as he raced to his imaginary finish line.
Dan and I watched as Speedo caught the bike at the front post. Then "Fastest Short Legged Corgi Mix in the World" stayed out in front for most of the run. His mentor would have been proud. We had buried Skipper at his front post starting line. As I watched Speedo racing with wild abandon, I had tears in my eyes. I think Dan did too. I will always be thankful that I wagered on a greyhound named Anchor Man. I made a bet that he could become a real dog and he truly was a winner for me.
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